Author's Comments: Hold your breath.

Too Close

Chapter Eleven

Part 1.

"Miss Olivia," said Roberto, "You ready to go?"

Tempted to flee, but knowing she would be captured and sedated if she tried, Olivia eyed the chair and resigned herself to sitting in it. Roberto wheeled her into the elevator, pressing the button labeled "B".

"Why are we going to the basement?" said Olivia, her shoulders tensing.

"That's where the ECT lab is," said Roberto, staring at the numbers above the door as they lit up.

Olivia's breaths came in short, shallow spurts, and she tried to slow them down. Fighting off dizziness as the door slid open, she braced herself as the wheelchair clanked over the metal edge of the elevator, and then glided smoothly over the concrete floor.

Olivia opened her mouth to gulp more air into her lungs as Roberto rolled her into a tiny room with no windows, the cinder block walls rough like a dungeon. The only contents that fit inside the space were an operating table like the one she slept on last night, and some medical equipment. She told herself that she would cooperate, because she had no other choice. But when she saw restraints on the table before her, she tensed up, preparing for a fight.

She scanned the condensed room, noticing a full needle in the hands of a nurse standing next to the bed, and she knew that it was pointless to try and escape. Her legs weak, she stood and wobbled over to the table, swallowing hard as she forced herself to lie down on her back. She pulled her hospital down as far as it would go, trying to cover herself the best she could, and then closed her eyes and listened to her pulse pounding in her temple.

As Roberto fastened the straps around her wrists, he said, "This is just for your own safety, you know. Sometimes people's hands and legs go flying around during the process, and we don't want you to get hurt."

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut even harder as her hands and feet began to tremble, causing the metal on the restraints to clatter. "I won't feel this, right?" she rasped.

"Probably not," said Roberto.

Her eyes shot open as the nurse began to fidget with the controls. "What do you mean probably not? Don't you give me some kind of anesthetic?"

"No, we don't have money for that kind of thing at this facility. We use what's called unmodified ECT. You probably won't remember any of it, though."

Olivia shook her head. "No," she said. "You can't do this. Stop. I want to talk to somebody. A patient representative—anyone. I'm a cop—"

Dr. Romanov stood in the doorway now, and he nodded to the nurse and said, "You can start now."

"Ah, Gawd," she said, stiffening her body involuntarily. A switch flipped, and her eyes rolled back in her head, body arching as a blue light flashed before her eyes, consciousness disappearing a split second later.

Part 2.

Elliot dropped Olivia's clothes on the front counter and said, "I need to talk to someone about a patient here, Olivia Benson."

The receptionist looked at the computer monitor and said, "Yeah, all her visitation is restricted, including phone calls. That's unusual, but it happens."

"Why is it restricted?"

She looked at him condescendingly and said, "I can't tell you that, Sir."

Just as he was about to protest, his phone rang. "Stabler," he answered.

"Are you Elliot?" said a woman's voice on the other end.

"Speaking," he said.

"I'm a patient at Kings County psychiatric facility. My name is Rita." She lowered her voice. "I have a message from Olivia."

Elliot almost blurted out, "Olivia?" but then noticed the nurse's eyes trained on him, and said instead, "Go ahead."

"She wants me to meet with you in person. Can you come to the facility?"

"Yeah," he said, "Be in there in a minute."

He hung up the phone and gave the nurse Rita's information, and she took him inside the lock-down area to a big room with plump chairs and a few tables strewn about. A young woman with restless eyes came up to him and said, "I'm Rita. Olivia said to give this to you." She glanced around to see if any guards were watching, and then slipped him a note.

Elliot unfolded the tiny pink square and read the handwritten message on it, which said:

Elliot—a guard named Moses raped a patient, she has short brown hair, about 5'2", has a tattoo of a flower on her lower back. I caught him in the act. Dr. Romanov is giving me ECT so I won't remember. Please help—Liv

Elliot's chest tightened, and he bolted to the nearest person wearing a pair of scrubs. "Where's Olivia Benson—I need to speak to a patient, named Olivia Benson."

The staff member shrugged and pointed to a nurse pushing a cart. "You'll have to ask her," he said.

"Olivia Benson," Elliot said before even reaching the nurse. "I need to speak to her."

The nurse shook her head. "She can't have visitors."

Elliot whipped out his badge, an edge of authority entering his voice. "This isn't a personal visit. This is official police business—I'm investigating a crime. I need to speak to her—now."

The nurse raised an eyebrow at him, and he wanted to slap her. Then she pointed down the hallway. "Here she comes now."

Elliot looked where she was pointing, at a wheelchair containing a heavy-lidded Olivia wearing nothing but a hospital gown with a blanket thrown over her. Rushing to her as the security guard parked her wheelchair next to her room, he squatted next to her and said, "Olivia." Her eyes glazed over, but she turned her head to him. "You okay?" he said.

She smiled like a heroin addict and said, "Elliot—what are you doing here?"

He lifted her hand into his and said, "Did they use ECT on you?"

She lowered her eyebrows in concentration and said, "You know, I think they did. But I don't remember it."

He knew something was not right with her. She acted confused, like an elderly person with dementia. "Here, let me help you into your room so we can talk," he said.

She used his hand as support to stand, but then winced, and fell back into her chair again. "My foot—"

He bent down and examined it, and a noticeable black and purple bump protruded from her ankle. "She needs medical assistance," he said, looking in the direction of the nurse, who stood gawking at the two of them. "Now!"

He went with her to the ER in the hospital, and while they waited for the results of an x-ray, he pulled a chair up next to her, saying, "Olivia, do you remember what happened in the psych ward?"

Her dazed eyes darted as she struggled to stay focused, and he just wanted to take her home with him right now and wait on her like she deserved. None of this was her fault, he knew. She shook her head slowly and said, "I'm having trouble remembering anything right now. I see people, and they look familiar, but I can't remember names, or where I know them from. It's all foggy."

He took her hand in his and said quietly, to avoid the nurse hearing, "Do you remember the note you wrote me?"

Crinkles formed in her forehead. "No," she said. "I have vague memories of . . . of a basement, with a bed, and restraints. And a tiny window."

Elliot sighed, caressing her hand now. "You just have patience," he said. "I'm going to try and get you out of here."

She nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she said, "Yeah, El, I would like that. I don't remember exactly what happened in the basement, but I don't want to go back."

He rubbed her back and then stroked her hair, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. "Okay. I'm going to take care of it." She clenched her eyes shut and absorbed the kiss like it might be the last one ever.